


Warmth Of A Memory

by blubbly



Category: 91 Days (Anime)
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Insomnia, M/M, Nightmares, Post-Canon, Rain, Smoking, a blanket and angelo's thin sheet, nero remembering his childhood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-01
Updated: 2020-09-01
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:41:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26225842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blubbly/pseuds/blubbly
Summary: “What are you doing here?” Avilio’s voice is still mumbled by slumber.Nero grins towards him. “Enjoying the rain.” The grin grows bigger and louder when Avilio’s unapologetic face tells him thatyou are an idiot.
Relationships: Angelo Lagusa | Avilio Bruno/Nero Vanetti
Comments: 9
Kudos: 47





	Warmth Of A Memory

Heavy eyelids.

Eyes squeezed tight, in an attempt to both sleep and fall awake.

Nightmares prickling under fair skin, turning the gold of those eyes into a murky shade of earth.

Eyes now open, his breath doesn’t hitch, not anymore. He’s grown used to them. The horrors aren’t his friends, but they aren’t his enemies either. They _are_ , they lurk, they haunt him. They can’t hurt him anymore. He’s seen hell enough times to know it by heart.

Nero stares at the sky. It’s raining, he’s smiling.

The rain barely reaches the tips of his blanket, big enough for three, yet wrapped around only one pair of shoulders. The old wooden, weaved sofa digs in his legs sometimes when he shifts, but it’s good enough. There were no other chairs on the balcony.

Nero loves light. He loves days spent in sunlight, laughing, running, catching his breath. He loves brightly lit rooms, where everyone comes just to have fun, and business and handshakes are left locked outside. He loves summer and sea, the feeling of water and weightlessness, and perhaps it’s because it makes him feel just a little bit free.

Nero loves light, as he loves the sun.

But in no way is Nero less infatuated with nights, and neither with rain.

While memories of rainy days were lesser in number, the warmth they hold in his heart is just as warm as the rest. All the times when they played outside, jumping in puddles until their fingers were frozen, when their smiles were still those of a child. Mud was splattered all over his pants, his hair disobeying the laws it should follow. Yet with scolding always came a warm cup of tea, or cocoa - if he behaved well. The warmth he can still to this day feel under his fingers, burning like all those forgotten years ago. And from his fingertips it spreads, it warms up his heart, and paints a smile on his lips.

It’s a sad one, for all the things and the times that he’s lost, and a happy one, for he is grateful they happened at all.

He exhales smoke from his lungs, watches droplets fall through the cloud.

A noise on his right catches his attention.

“What are you doing?”

Avilio doesn’t answer. He scrunches his nose and pulls the thin sheet tighter around himself, as if that would in any way help.

“Was it a nightmare?”

Avilio, again, doesn’t answer. He drags himself to the sofa and with a nod of his head forces Nero to give up some space.

Nero sighs but doesn’t protest, knowing it would be meaningless. He instead looks. He looks at the other trying to fit, untangling the blanket, bending his legs. He looks at the button shaped tip of his nose. He looks at the shades under his eyes, two clouds lingering after a kiss from the horrors of night. Avilio doesn’t sleep well, usually. He sleeps even worse when he’s cold.

They settle down.

“What are you doing here?” Avilio’s voice is still mumbled by slumber.

Nero grins towards him. “Enjoying the rain.” The grin grows bigger and louder when Avilio’s unapologetic face tells him that _you are an idiot_.

Why would someone do that, Avilio wonders. Why would they spend time outside in the _cold?_ He sniffs once, slowly blinking when something bumps on his shoulder. He looks down.

Nero’s outstretched hand and the ever-confident smile offer him a pack of cigarettes. Avilio blinks one more time before reaching for the one sticking out. He murmurs a _thank you_ and leans in, letting Nero light it up for him.

He inhales, and the familiar taste burns his insides pleasantly. His cloud of smoke vanishes somewhere near Nero’s.

“’s there any pineapple left?”

“Hm?” Nero looks up, “there should be.”

“…”

“You’re not gonna eat it now, are you?”

“Tomorrow for lunch.”

Nero sinks back. “Good, ‘cause I wasn’t gonna go pick it up for you.”

“I wouldn’t have asked,” Avilio clicks his tongue.

A _blatant_ , undeniable lie.

They stop talking and Nero pretends he can count raindrops, and Avilio covers his toes more because socks aren’t enough and he’s cold in their silence.

The cigarettes finish.

Eyes are still burning, lacking the sleep. Too heavy to keep them open, too painful to shut them close, Avilio blinks slowly, wiping away sleepy tears in the thin sheet once more. Sometimes the night steals a yawn from him, and soon enough the cold gifts him shivers.

He sneezes at the same moment as something heavy hits his back. Sniffing, he turns to look at Nero again.

There is now space beside him, feathery blanket wrapping around both of their shoulders. Sometimes, Avilio would’ve taken his time, he would’ve refused. Now, he doesn’t. Not when they saw each other raw, bleeding from wounds and from heart, writhing in pain. Not when he is so cold and Nero, as always, so warm.

He scoots closer, allowing a satisfied sigh to escape him. It’s warm.

Nero smiles and tucks the blanket diligently before wrapping his arms around Avilio, tighter than anything else.

“Better?”

“…don’t ask if you know already.”

“How can I know if you don’t tell me?”

Without opening an eye, Avilio retorts, “you’re smiling.”

He’s right. Nero smiles bigger and leans his chin on top of night-coloured hair.

Nero starts counting the raindrops again, Avilio counts heartbeats.

It’s the latter who breaks the silence this time.

“Why do you like rain?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah. Heh, we used to get all dirty under it when we were kids. Got yelled at often, mom was so angry because my shirts came home brown. But then she’d make us this really good cocoa and…” He trails off. She’d laugh, they would be happy and fall asleep feeling loved.

“Hmm,” Avilio hums. He squeezes Nero’s wrist once. They’ve thought about this more than enough times already. Nero offers a soft kiss on top of his head. They both know all of it.

The anger burned them down to the ashes, until there was nothing left to burn anymore, and now they’re trying to put back the pieces.

“I wouldn’t mind a cup of cocoa now,” Avilio mumbles pensively.

“’m not moving from here, darling.”

Avilio bites the shoulder underneath his lips as a warning.

“Oi!”

“You want cocoa too.”

“So what?!”

“You’re loud.”

Nero spits out a few outraged words.

“Be _quiet_ ,” Avilio says one last time and leans back where he was. He can’t hear the heartbeat if Nero is yelling.

And the moment he does so, Nero grows silent. He knows what Avilio is doing, because he’s done the same a million times more. He holds him closer.

“Angelo?”

The head shifts and peeks out from the blanket, bright eyes looking up from his chest. A few drops fall on the tip of his nose. Three, Nero counts. He plants a kiss right where they landed, then a bit lower, on his favourite lips.

“I can make us cocoa if you want,” he whispers, almost half broken, almost pleading to have back some time he has left in the past.

Angelo nods. “Later.” He finds Nero’s hand and plays with his fingers, invisible melody born from their touch. It’s reassuring and it burns so much like his mug from those days far, far gone.

Later.

For now, Angelo wants to stay warm, counting the heartbeat, a strange lullaby. Nero wants to stay warm, imprinting the burning on his fingers deep beneath his skin to never forget.

He starts thinking the days made of rain will quickly be warmer than those with bright sun, Angelo wonders if even nights, cold just like this one, could feel as tender and safe.

They, lonely together, dissolve even closer, thinking how they are each other’s warmth of a memory.

**Author's Note:**

> If I decide Angelo is alive absolutely no one can stop me.


End file.
